


futures.

by aceface



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Remus/Sirius, M/M, Unrequited, Very old but posting for archive purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 13:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceface/pseuds/aceface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is two years old, but already old enough to know when he doesn't like something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	futures.

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post for archive purposes. Originally written in 2008.

**9 July 1961.**

Sirius is two years old, but already old enough to know when he doesn't like something. The nursery is cold -- and it's not a nursery, a nursery is somewhere warm and pleasant, and Sirius knows there could never be something like that in Grimmauld Place -- and forbidding, and the single lamp lit casts shadows on the wall. Sirius hates shadows. They loom over him, distorted images of a place he already hates, trapping him in what feels like another world. Sirius hates his brother, as well.

He hasn't seen him, yet -- he was only born two hours ago and doesn't even have a name yet, but he heard his mother's shrieks and that was enough for him. Anything that causes that, that makes his mother scream (because Sirius isn't old enough yet to know that she screams constantly, and he isn't Gryffindor enough yet to know that she'll scream at _him_ ) can't be good, the way he sees it. He hardly ever sees Walburga, but she's still his mother. Never his mum, but his _mother_. So he dislikes his brother on principle.

(Sirius always makes judgements that he will later regret.)

Their nanny comes, and Sirius has never bothered to learn her name because why should he? She's only there to serve him, and he only learns the name of equals. He's about to ignore her, but she takes his hand and speaks quickly before he can pull away.

"Do you want to see your new little brother?"

She doesn't give him a chance to say no, just steers him in the direction of the nursery -- and even at two, Sirius tries to push her away, resents being made to do something he doesn't want to. It's dark and he's cold and he's a _Black_ , he's the _heir_ , and he stamps his foot petulantly. He refuses to look in the cot, holding onto the twisted cold iron bars that keep his brother in, and the nanny laughs -- and it sounds so out of place.

"Just take a look, Master Black," she encourages him, before turning on her heel and leaving to do some inferior job, Sirius can't think what. He doesn't even know what a nanny is supposed to do, except get in the way a lot. After she's gone, he opens his eyes -- because he's brave, if nothing else, he's determined to be brave -- and sees his brother for the first time.

And he doesn't know how he could hate something so small or pink, or how something so innocent looking could come from their _mother_ , their intimidating, looming, dragon of a mother. (Sirius hopes that maybe it was an accident, that really they don't have a mother at all.) His brother looks up, with big grey eyes just like Sirius' own, and blinks at him. Sirius is worried that he's going to cry and that he won't know what to do, but a smile takes over the baby's face and it's the first smile in Grimmauld Place that Sirius has ever seen.

He thinks that, maybe, he could like his brother.

 

**24 December 1971.**

"It's just more fun when you're around," Regulus says, trying to hide the sadness -- the _weakness_ he can hear creeping into his voice. If at five years he was too old to cry, then he definitely is now he's ten. Blacks are strong, and Sirius is the strongest person Regulus has ever known. He may not always want to be a Black, but he knows in his heart that he will _always_ want to be like Sirius.

"Tell me everything," he insists, desperate almost -- leaning forward, his eyes wide, and Sirius had missed him _so much_ and he hadn't even known. Missed him in the way that caused a dull ache that he hadn't been aware of, that he'd thought was homesickness, just a constant pull at his heart -- and it was _Regulus_ -! He bites his lip, knowing he can't let Regulus know, it would hurt him, knowing Regulus can spot any sign of emotion in a second, and above all this he just has an overwhelming feeling of _just how good_ it is to be with him again.

"About what?" he asks, keeping his voice light, and Regulus clenches his fists in frustration, certain that Sirius is playing with him.

"Hogwarts, of course! What did you learn there? Show me!" The order is almost a beg, and for a second Sirius sees his brother with outsiders' eyes -- never denied anything in his life, arrogant, commanding -- and then it's gone and he just sees his little brother again, masking his shyness and insecurities and loneliness with misplaced Black pride.

"I can't show you magic," Sirius states with older brother knowledge, as though _everyone_ knows _that_. "I'm not allowed to do it out of school."

Regulus pouts for a second, his dark eyes looking too big for his face. "Never stopped you before," he mutters, resentment colouring his tones, and Sirius chooses to ignore it -- something else which is different.

"I learned this, though," he tells Regulus, with the smirk he's already known for around school, and something warm and wet covers Regulus' mouth. He doesn't know what it is at first -- he won't automatically assume that Sirius is trying out a new prank on him for another year at least -- but it's nice enough. He's glad Sirius is showing him this, because maybe people do it all the time at Hogwarts, and Regulus doesn't want to be the odd one out. Sirius tells him it is a kiss, and Regulus hasn't had a kiss before. Sirius got two kisses from their mother, one on either cheek when they saw him off at the station, but Sirius is the oldest and the heir, so it's only right that he got special treatment. Regulus thinks he maybe remembers one, years ago, from his nanny -- the same one who'd later been dismissed for telling him and Sirius stories about the Muggle world. Regulus still dreams of it, sometimes, of roaring monsters with slicing blades named Hellycopters, and boxes that flicker pictures at you of anywhere in the world, called TeeVees, and of a mysterious thing called Ekeltricity that makes it all possible.

(Regulus always wishes he'd been allowed to take Muggle Studies.)

Regulus goes in for another kiss, excited by something new, already yearning to be good at it, to be the _best_ \-- but Sirius says no, his smile already too sure of himself, and something in Regulus twists sharply at this new rejection. But then Sirius' expression changes, softens, and he pushes Regulus' hair away from his face with something akin to concern.

"You can have too much of a good thing," he says quietly, getting up and going down to the extravagant, rich Christmas Eve dinner that their parents always insist upon, and Regulus is left with a feeling that Sirius is caught up in something that he himself is much too young to understand. And he's scared for him, for his brother, because at this point Sirius _is_ still his brother. And Regulus is too young to understand, but not too young to know that Sirius will never be scared for himself, and not too young to know that Sirius should be.

 

**2 September 1972.**

Regulus can't sleep the night before he's due to go to Hogwarts. He's never liked change, it scares him and makes him uncomfortable, and so he lies awake and stares at his ceiling. It doesn't help. He crawls out of his bed, the covers tangled around his legs, trapping him and awaking his long-since dormant claustraphobia, and for a minute the stories that his mother used to tell him surface, about Lethifolds and Acromantulas (but mainly Lethifolds) and he kicks harder than he needs to, until he's sure that the thick blankets with the heavy embroidery are entirely dead. He hates those blankets.

He ends up standing in front of the window in just his boxers, shivering as the night air hits him and feeling pleasantly surreal, like he always does in the middle of the night (and also slightly rebellious because he should be _asleep_ ). He spreads his hand on the window, feeling the condensation, and it's so odd to think that this room, this room that he's spent most of his life in, this isn't his room anymore. And he's going to be _sharing_ with _other boys_ and he doesn't know any other boys, only Sirius and Rodolphus and Lucius Malfoy, and they're all a lot older than him anyway.

He stares morosely at the stars, feeling sorry for himself, and one always shines brighter than the others (it's Sirius of course, although he doesn't know this yet, and later Regulus will note this with bitterness). He thinks of his nanny, pointing one or two out to him, and suddenly realises that Astronomy is a school subject. This excites him, his stomach flipping over like he's missed a step on the stairs, because Regulus has always loved the stars and once he's learned all their names, he'll be able to read his family up there. This means he'll never be alone.

He hears footsteps and turns around too suddenly, scared of Kreacher catching him out of bed (because even though Kreacher is the only one apart from Sirius who properly likes him, Kreacher tries to pull the covers around him sometimes and Regulus always feels too trapped). His foot catches in the blankets (and for a split second he's more convinced than ever that it's a _Lethifold_ \--)

"Regulus?" Regulus stands up straighter at the sound of his brother's voice and even ignores the Lethifold still molesting his ankles. Sirius wanders into the room still half asleep, stretching his arms up to the ceiling in a yawn and causing the thin material of his t-shirt to ride up, exposing a thin strip of pale skin. Regulus wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the moonlight just happening to drift in through the window and highlight it. "Reg, why are you-" he yawns, again "-up so late?"

Regulus says, "Um," articulately and then collapses onto his bed. "I'm scared," he confesses, in the tone of voice he'd never use around anyone else (except maybe Kreacher) and immediately feels a lot better, because hasn't Sirius always stopped him from being scared before (except for that one time when Regulus thought Muggles were trying to get into the house and Kreacher got the poker from the fireplace)?

Sirius comes and collapses next to him, looking effortlessly at ease as usual, whereas Regulus is sure _he's_ just splayed out awkwardly, all arms and legs. "About what?"

"Hogwarts," Regulus mumbles reluctantly, because he hates admitting that he's scared of anything, especially to Sirius.

"Reg, don't be," Sirius says softly. "Seriously, I was too. It's okay, it's not scary at all."

And Regulus is going to complain about how it's _different_ for Sirius, everyone _likes_ Sirius, but then his mind catches up with Sirius' words, and did he really just say that he was scared? He can't tell if this is truth, or just Sirius lying to make him feel better, but either it works. "Really?" his traitorous mouth asks, still seeking reassurance, and the ever-confident smirk takes over Sirius' face.

"Really. Come on, Reg, it'll be great. You'll be in Gryffindor, with me. And next year you can join the Quidditch team, you can be a Beater, we can be a team just like we always are."

"I want to be a Seeker," Regulus mutters, rolling over so he can share Sirius' warmth and holding onto him.

"Well, be a Seeker, then. And you can hang around with us, and play pranks on all the Slyth-- the other Houses," Sirius adds, his murmurs beginning to wash over Regulus like he imagines the ocean would, lulling him to sleep.

"What if I'm not... What if I'm in another House?" Regulus asks, talking into Sirius' neck, Sirius' skin warm and hot against his mouth.

"You won't be," Sirius says, confident as ever. "You know what I learned last year? _Regulus_ is the star at the heart of the Lion constellation, Reg. And a lion cub can't go into any other House than Gryffindor."

Regulus falls asleep with his face buried in Sirius' hair, and wakes up with Sirius' arm wrapped around him.

 

**17 May 1975.**

Regulus doesn't really have any friends at Hogwarts. He's withdrawn and quiet, and he knows the others mistake that for arrogance and superiority. Slytherins admire that, so he's respected, but not necessarily liked. He sees Sirius around a lot, usually laughing unreservedly with his head thrown back in the sunlight and at least three friends in tow, if not a pretty girl. Sirius doesn't ever seem to see _him_.

Regulus has been out with a few girls, he's not stupid. He knows it would look weird if he didn't, and all the Slytherin girls want to spend time with him -- he likes to think it's not just because he's a Black. Some of the other girls have talked to him, too, flicking their hair about and fluttering their eyelashes, but he knows that's just to try and get to Sirius, so he cuts them off midsentence, causing them to look at him with a new interest. Mostly, Regulus thinks that girls are laughing at him behind his back, and he doesn't entirely trust them.

Severus Snape is in the year above him, and Sirius and his friends pick on him constantly. The past two summers that Regulus has been at home, Sirius has tried out some of those pranks on him. Regulus feels sometimes like he doesn't know his brother anymore. Regulus feels more and more like an only child.

It's not easy, either. Sirius being the so-called "bad one" has left Regulus with no choice of his own. His mother writes to him, constantly, asking _what's Sirius doing_ and _is he still consorting with that werewolf boy_ and growing less and less coherent until he gets Howlers, shrieking at him at the breakfast table, _this is YOU regulus this is YOUR BROTHER and you should TAKE RESPONSIBILITY he's DISGRACING THE FAMILY NAME and YOU should do something ABOUT IT_ and sometimes Regulus can't help wondering if his mother actually thinks about him at all, or whether it's just _siriussiriussirius_ like it is with everyone else. Somehow, he expected his mother to be different. Expectations are another thing Regulus is beginning to feel like he doesn't know anymore. They were always something he had for other people, and he's only just realised that no one has any for him.

In Astronomy, Regulus learns that his name means _little prince_ , and that just sums it all up, really. To be a Black is to be almost _royalty_ , but all Regulus can ever be is the prince. Sirius is the king, even while being a bloodtraitor, while being a Gryffindor, and all Regulus can do is study hard and try and get good grades (and even then he only got an E in Potions? Sirius effortlessly gets Os, Walburga tells him, and Slytherins are supposed to do better).

It's okay, though, because when it all gets too much Regulus just sneaks out of the castle and goes down by the lake. He likes the Giant Squid best of anybody at Hogwarts because he can talk to it and it listens to him, and sometimes waves its tentacles around sympathetically. He misses Kreacher a lot, but that's okay. He thinks Kreacher and the Squid would get along. Sometimes he lays back on the grass and counts everyone he can see in the sky -- it's summer, so that means Uncle Cygnus and Great-Aunt Cassiopeia, and Sirius. Always Sirius, shining the brightest, determined to outdo everyone else. Sirius is quite far from Regulus, just past their father Orion, but that's okay. Regulus sort of likes it that way.

And so Regulus slowly makes his way through school getting O's (and a few E's, notably in Arithmancy) and it's all okay. It's not good or anything, but it's. Well, it's bearable. Except someone must have seen him down by the lake (Regulus suspects the werewolf, that Lupin boy, he's always looking at Regulus with something like concern), because one night he's half asleep already when Sirius sits next to him. (He falls asleep at the lake quite often, and sometimes he stays there all night. No one ever notices.)

"So, uh. This is where you hang out," Sirius says, one hand in the pocket of his robes and the other expertly twirling his wand around his fingers, and Regulus feels physically sick at the sight of all that confidence and _arrogance_ and not a care in the world. He hides this, though, because he's an expert at closing off his emotions, and he just turns around and stares out at the lake. The Giant Squid decides this would be a good time to sink into the water.

Sirius takes Regulus' silence as an invitation to sit down next to him, instead of countless obscenities telling him to go away (which is what it _really_ is), and says, "You know, I really don't understand you, Reg," (and how dare he use that nickname, after he hasn't spoken to him properly in nearly three years).

He says, "Why do you buy in to all this pureblood elite rubbish?"

Adds, "You were always Mother's favourite, though," with just a touch of cruelty, heightened by the fact they both know it's not true.

Regulus can't take it, can't sit with Sirius and accept the insults like always, and he stands up and spits curses at his brother. Sirius' eyes widen almost impercibly and his hand flies out and takes hold of Regulus' wrist. He glances down, as though he's surprised by the actions of his own hand, but his grip only tightens.

"You're _hurting_ me," Regulus snaps, ignoring the way his skin heats up at Sirius' touch, at the way his legs are beginning to shake. This is his _brother_ , not even that anymore. "Sirius, get off me."

"No," Sirius snaps, and now he's surprised at how cold and hard his voice seems (and is this how Regulus really sees him?). He blinks, suddenly tired, and shakes his head. "No, Regulus, we need to talk. We do."

"I don't _care_ ," and seriously, when did Regulus turn into a stranger? Sirius doesn't know this boy anymore, doesn't know this Slytherin fourth year with the hard silver eyes and carefully controlled mask over his emotions.

"It's not up to you," he replies, fighting hard to keep calm, and no one gets under his _skin_ like his little brother does. "Look, just -- just sit down, okay?" For a second, he thinks that Regulus is going to hex him -- hoist him into the air by his ankle or something, he _has_ been spending a lot of time with Snivellus after all -- but then Regulus' mouth twists and he reluctantly takes a seat.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, just watching the moonlight on the lake, but all Sirius can see is the green and silver scarf pooled by Regulus' feet, and he wonders if that's really when it all started going wrong. Eventually, Regulus turns to face him, still with that odd twist to his mouth, "You're the one that's keeping me here, just talk. If we need to talk, then do it."

"Is it really that bad?" Sirius asks, before he can help it, "Spending time with me?"

"You tell me," Regulus answers, almost without thinking, "because you're the one that hasn't spoken to me in about three years."

Sirius for once, is lost for words, and instead just blinks a few times in succession because hey, it's true. And he doesn't know exactly _why_ it's true, either, just something about being too busy and being reminded of his family every time he looked at Regulus and feeling guilty for reasons he doesn't even know -- and Sirius hates being made to feel guilty, especially when he deserves it -- until the longer he'd left it, the harder it'd got. And it had brought them to this.

"Well," says Sirius, after a too-long silence, and he knows that the follow-up that would make it okay, the only one that _could_ make it okay, would be the two words Sirius finds hardest in the world (even worse than 'I love you'). And he can't, he just can't bring himself to say them, and Regulus' mouth twists in a different, more painful way this time.

And Sirius doesn't try to stop him this time.

 

**24 May 1975.**

Regulus doesn't go back to the lake for a week after that. He's worried that Sirius will be there -- and it's just so _typical_ that he can't even have this to himself, Sirius has always got to outdo him, or take everything away from him. Instead, he lies awake in his dormitory, listening to the sounds of the other boys breathing, remembering when he curled up next to Sirius in what seems like another life.

One hand slides down his boxers unconsciously, and by the time Regulus realises what he's doing -- _who_ he's thinking about -- it's already time to mutter _Scourgify_. He feels dirty and slightly sick, and muffles himself in his pillow. His face is hot and wet and something seems to be tearing at his insides, and Regulus stands up and runs to the bathroom, throwing up again and again and again.

The lake -- and, of course, the Giant Squid -- seems like Regulus' only option. He has no friends to tell, he can't face Kreacher, so he ends up rocking back and forth with his head in his hands, trying to make sense; "I'm in love... I love, I mean, you're supposed to love your brother, but..." The Squid waves its tentacles in an understanding way, and maybe Regulus feels a little bit better after all.

Right up until Sirius sits down next to him, of _course_. Sirius has never understood personal boundaries, never known what to stop talking or to keep away (and maybe, if he had, he wouldn't have been locked in the cellar so often). Regulus bites his lip, to keep his temper, and looks away and his neck tenses up the way it always does when he's nervous or struggling to keep control. Sirius opens his mouth to speak but Regulus gets there first, grounding out the words between his teeth; "Don't -- say -- anything."

So Sirius doesn't, and instead does the only thing he knows how, acting impulsively and without thought, and Regulus' mouth isn't cold like the rest of him. He expects Regulus to be subversive, to fold under him, to follow his lead like when they were kids but Regulus isn't a kid anymore and he pushes back just as hard, until they're not just kissing but fighting, rolling around by the lake.

Regulus is the one with the _holy this is my brother_ thoughts but Sirius is the one to stop it, with thoughts of Remus in his head, telling him that Regulus was down by the lake again, that he should try sort it out, that he'd be right here waiting when he got back -- soft, calm, _sensible_ Remus, everything Regulus isn't, not sharp or aggressive, and he pushes Regulus away so hard that the younger boy hits his head on a stone.

"I'm in love with Remus," he tells Regulus, fisting his hands in his robes, and it sounds like a challenge.

Regulus raises one eyebrow, arrogant smirk in place that he spent so many years trying to perfect. "Keep telling yourself that," he says, even as Sirius stands up and starts to walk away. "Because _I'm_ not the one that made the first move."

Remus is skinny, Regulus knows, but that's not why he spends the rest of the night lifting his arms above his head as he looks in the mirror and breathes in.

 

**31 May 1975.**

"You know," Sirius says straight away, before he even sits down, "normally people sleep at night."

Regulus doesn't even look at him.

  
"And if they can't sleep, they stay in their room. Or the common room. Or sometimes even the library, although I hear that's just the Ravenclaws."

"Look," Regulus says tiredly, because he can't do this, can't pretend that everything's okay, that they're just normal brothers spending time together (because they're not, they'll never be). "Look, I don't know why you're here, okay? But you must have a reason, I know you, so just. Just get it over with. Please."

Sirius seems about to argue, then stops, admits defeat. "You're right." He stops again, and sighs. Regulus feels his stomach sink because he knows his brother well enough to know that this is bad news, something that he doesn't want to hear. He considers running off, but he's learned by now that he can't run fast enough or far enough, so he stays where he is. "I'm going to move out, as soon as I'm old enough."

"You _can't_ ," Regulus says, suddenly and without thinking, because when did that ever stop Sirius? "You're the heir, Sirius."

"The _heir_ ," Sirius repeats, his upper lip curling with contempt, and Regulus feels a hot flush of rage rise up inside him because Sirius doesn't understand -- if he goes away, Regulus will be trapped for ever. But he can't say this, can't say any of this, because another thing Sirius doesn't do is listen. Not to Regulus, not to anyone.

"Sirius--"

  
"Regulus--"

They speak at the same time, stop, and laugh awkwardly. Sirius runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip, but continues anyway. "Look. I. You could come with me, if you wanted."

"Oh yeah," Regulus says, sarcasm evident, "because it's _that_ easy."

Sirius frowns, and Regulus knows what's going to happen next -- Sirius feels as though Regulus is being ungrateful, as though he's offering him something special, as though it's rude of Regulus to turn it down -- he feels his hands clench into fists at his sides and stifles the little-kid whine of 'you don't _understand!_ ' For a second, he imagines what it would be like to run away with Sirius, just the two of them, and then he hears _i'm in love with remus_ and for a second, he imagines what it would be like to break someone else's heart.

Sirius stares at him for a second, and then turns away.

Mutters, "You're just like them."

No, Regulus thinks. But you are.

 

**30 July 1975.**

Regulus always associates the smell of burning cloth with a sense of loss.

 

**5 August 1975.**

"Regulus," Mother says, "We are having a nice young politician over tonight. Lord Voldemort," she says, "and he wants to talk to you. He thinks you could be vital to our cause."

Regulus doesn't say anything. Not even a week has passed since Sirius left, and already it's like he's never been born. Regulus used to think, when he was much younger, that this was what he wanted. To be the only one, to see Mother smiling at him like she did at Sirius, to lead the Blacks once again to greatness, like Grandfather Arcturus who Regulus is even named for, achieving the Order of Merlin, first-class.

He'd even gone out of his way to emphasise his difference from Sirius, to be the _better_ one. He'd asked the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin -- "Are you sure? You have unmistakeable courage. You could do great things in Gryffindor..." -- refusing to follow Sirius (like he was following his family now, but that was different, _he_ was different) and his Mother hadn't even acknowledged it. Sometimes he'd wished to be in Ravenclaw. He thinks he'd have liked it, in Ravenclaw.

All his letters from Mother had been about Sirius -- _what's he doing, is he still hanging around that werewolf brat, influence him, Regulus, he's the_ heir _, he's important_ \-- and sometimes, a thinly veiled criticism of Regulus; _i heard you only got an E, did you hear about Sirius'_ O _'s, he has_ potential _, Regulus._ But Regulus wasn't Sirius, and Regulus could never _be_ Sirius, so he when he comes home for the holidays he carefully traces out a Slytherin insignia to remind himself (his parents) that he's not Sirius. Kreacher brings him paint, shining silver and emerald green, and Regulus spends two whole days locked in his room with the heady smell of wet paint, dizzy and paint-splattered from head to toe, even though there'd be hell to pay if he was found doing a _servants'_ job. Even when the Slytherin symbol is completed, only the house elves notice.

So when Mother mentioned this Lord, Regulus knew that this was his chance. He cuts all the mentions of him out of the newspapers, sliding each one carefully under a glass screen and using the Sticking Charm that got him an O to attach it to his wall. He ignores the mentions of death, torture, of Muggles being somehow lower, and focuses instead on his Mother's face, and when she said 'he wants to talk to _you_.' Not to Sirius -- not that he could. But still, maybe he was chosen. Maybe, this was his turn at last. He wonders if he will be made to do horrible things, and his stomach turns. Really? He doesn't think he could.

He sits opposite the Lord at the ornate oak table in his best robes, stiff with starch, his head bowed as he eats. The Lord is very good looking, and his parents are obviously charmed by him. Regulus knows, deep down, that the Lord is just another replacement for Sirius, someone who is already better than Regulus could hope to be. He's outshined again, placed to the back, just as Sirius did. He's not Remus, and he's not Sirius, but he doesn't want to be Regulus either. Sometimes, for more than a second, Regulus wishes his mother had not had him. He is sure that she never wanted him, at least.

"So, Regulus," the Lord says, after they have eaten. "I hear you are in Slytherin."

Regulus nods, wordlessly, unsure of whether to answer. He has been schooled in the correct protocol for visitors since he can remember, a young boy sitting night after night in front of thick ettiquette books, but he can't remember any of it.

"As was I. What is your favourite subject?"

He nearly answers _Astronomy_ but that wouldn't be suitable, too... too Ravenclaw. Instead, he answers as Severus would do, something more befitting of a Slytherin boy. "Potions, sir."

"Not Defence Against The Dark Arts? I must say, that was my personal favourite. In knowing how to defend yourself against them, you are also armed with the knowledge of how best then to slip past those defences. Wouldn't you say?"

"With Potions," Regulus speaks, offering an opinion, "you can eradicate the defences completely, allowing the..." -- he thinks _victim_ \-- "defender to become helpless. It's, um. Slyer," he finishes, hopelessly, but the Lord smiles, steepling his thin fingers together.

"With your permission, Mrs Black, I would like Regulus to join the fight. I believe we could make good use of him."

His mother's breath hitches in her throat, and Regulus knows that she's proud, at last. He wills himself to feel triumph, but instead all he can feel is a thick resentment towards Sirius, and a sliding ache in his stomach that this he's nearing his end.

Stars, Regulus knows, always burn brightest before they burn out.

 

**9 July 1977.**

On Regulus' sixteenth birthday, he becomes what is now known as a 'Death Eater'. For the past two years, he's been studying at school, telling the Dark Lord of Dumbledore's decisions and movements, gathering Slytherins around him in the common room and whispering into their ears tales of _superiority_ and _mudbloods_ and _our rightful place_.

For the past two years, Regulus has hated himself.

His mother has never been prouder.

He's at home for the holidays, but it feels more like a prison. He can't escape himself, wherever he goes, and once again he's overwhelmed by the same feeling he had two years ago -- not being able to run fast enough, or far enough. He could run across the globe and it still wouldn't be enough, and Regulus has never been one to run away, ever. That's Sirius' job -- to run away from his duties, his family, his _brother_. And Regulus, as always, is still not Sirius. Regulus means prince, or little king, but he doesn't want to be the king anymore. King of cowardice, he thinks, and shivers.

Kreacher knocks on the door, and enters. "The Dark Lord is asking for you, Master Regulus," he breathes, fear akin to respect, but Regulus knows the only reason Kreacher respects the Lord is because Regulus does. Regulus is the only one who's ever spoken to Kreacher, or treated him as a friend, and Kreacher feels for Regulus the nearest thing to love that he can. Kreacher would die for Regulus, he knows, and wishes he could be as sure that he would do the same.

He rises to his feet, because it is not wise to keep the Lord waiting, but he has time enough to make sure that he thanks Kreacher on the way out.  
  
(Many years later, Sirius will say, "you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals," and the house will sigh with the memory of Regulus Black.)

The Lord is waiting for him in the living room (try as he might, Regulus can't bring himself to add that _Dark_ , it makes it all too clear) and he bows deeply as he enters, breathing a "my lord," as he has been instructed to do many times, the promise of _crucio_ always following. It doesn't affect Regulus as it does some of the others, because a certain amount of immunity is built up if one is exposed to it frequently when young. He makes sure not to let the Lord know this.

"Regulus," he murmurs, extending a hand for Regulus to brush with his lips. "I think you are ready."  
  
Regulus' eyelids flicker but he doesn't raise his head, or ask _for what_ , instead he fills his mind with excitement, even a bitter happiness. He's always glad that Kreacher had taken great pains to teach him Occlumency when Regulus had feared the boys at school getting inside his head. They hadn't, of course, but it had been a lesson well learnt.

He never knows how it happened but when he awakes, the familiar dark skull is burnt into his arm.

When he tries his hardest to remember, all he can feel is pain.

 

**10 July 1977.**

Sirius' face appears in the fire late at night and he says, "You're an idiot." It's not as calm as it sounds. His hair is too long, and his face is rounder, and he's actually spitting fire but Regulus can't remember if people always do that when they Floo. His eyes are angry, though, and Regulus is sort of glad that his brother didn't Floo over completely (but mostly sad, because isn't he even worth _that_?).

He says, "Happy birthday to me, too."

Sirius says, "You bloody _idiot_ ," and there's probably an exclamation mark in there somewhere as well. There's still no _happy birthday regulus_.

"Yeah, sixteen," Regulus says. "Only a year until I'm of age, huh?"

Sirius breathes in and out a few times then points his finger and grinds out, " _Stay right there_ ," before pulling his head out of the fire and disappearing. Regulus considers running off somewhere, just to annoy Sirius in a way he hasn't done since he was two, but decides it's not worth it. Besides, this is the most contact he's had with Sirius in two years, and he doesn't want to give it up that easily. Besides, Regulus doesn't run away.  
  
A few minutes later, Sirius is standing in his bedroom, breathless but full of what he imagines as righteous anger. He says, "You complete--"

"Idiot," Regulus fills in helpfully, almost giddy with anger and excitement -- because his _brother_ -! -- and Sirius explodes. Regulus isn't too sure what about, being rather light-headed, but he definitely catches the phrases 'Death Eater' and 'any idea what you're getting yourself into' and ' _Voldemort_ , Regulus!' (and at the mention of the Lord's name he can't quite suppress a wince). Sirius doesn't show any sign of calming down and it starts to become too much, and Regulus yells "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, OKAY?"

Surprisingly, Sirius does. He walks over to the bed, and sees the Slytherin insignia and the Dark Lord clippings and almost collapses onto the bed, head in hands. "Oh, _Reg_ ," and it's muffled by his hands but Regulus can still catch the desperation and grief, and this just fuels his anger because it's not _fair_ that Sirius gets to be desperate, shouldn't Regulus be allowed that? "What have you _done_ , Reggie?"

"I did what _you_ should have bloody done!" Regulus shouts but Sirius doesn't listen, he never does.

"Just tell me why," he says at last, voice raw, and Regulus sits down next to him.

"Because I had to," and that's it, that's _it_ , but Sirius doesn't understand. Sirius never could. Instead, he pulls Regulus to him, fierce and angry, and their mouths crash together and fill with the metallic taste of blood. It's rough and hurried and it's everything that Regulus has been wanting, and it's the perfect (late) birthday present.

 

**11 July 1977.**

It's even worse when Sirius pulls on his robes, refuses to look at Regulus, and says, "This was a mistake."

 

**25 August 1978.**

Regulus isn't going back to school. He's of age now, and he can better serve the Lord without having to focus on studying for his exams, not letting his mask slip. He misses it, in a way. Not how it was before he left -- the thought of it gives him headache, all the torturing of other students, training the Slytherins in the way of Death Eaters, finally discovering popularity for being the one closest to the Lord. Even Bellatrix is jealous of him, and he doesn't think she was aware of his existence before this. No, Regulus misses what it was like in his first few years, the studying in the quiet of the library, his parents not caring what he did as long as he looked the part, seeing Sirius nearly every day.

Regulus has either been adored by his parents or neglected by them, and he feels ungrateful for hating both of these ways. Each time, he has never been loved by them. His mother is here now, looking in on him with a proud smile -- and he can hear her speaking to her friends over dinner, of her Death Eater son. Regulus hates that title; _Death Eater_ , it feels more like an accusation than an honor. He hates the heavy robes and the ugly masks, the overwhelming feeling of cowardice; if what they are doing is so noble then why must they hide their faces? At least it means he can look away from the faces contorted in identical expressions of pain, and no one will turn on him, or throw him from the group.

It was Sirius' birthday months ago; on the twenty fifth of October. No one mentioned it. Regulus found a leather motorcycle jacket in a Muggle shop and clumsily wrapped it with paper he'd found in a cabinet, and taped it up with Kreacher's help. He remembers Sirius telling him about the motorcycle -- "It _flies_ , Reggie!" -- and he wonders if Sirius does, too. Kreacher disappears with a crack, and when he returns he doesn't say anything. Regulus doesn't ask.

He's lonely, really, that's what it comes down to. The other Slytherin boys are slowly marrying -- Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy -- and even his cousin, Andromeda, who everyone spoke of as 'unmarriable' has run away with a Muggle boy, called Ted Tonks. Regulus can't help his lip curling in distaste at the name (it's so _common_ ), but he's still envious of Andromeda and her courage. And her love. Maybe, Regulus thinks sometimes, people are incapable of loving him. His brother, his parents. He whispers this to Kreacher one night, and the house elf clings to him.

"Kreacher will always love Master," he promises, and when Regulus asks if this is because he's been trained to, the elf shakes his head. "Kreacher does not love Mistress Black," he admits, "although Kreacher does his best, yes he does. But Master is nice to Kreacher, Master understands, and Kreacher has always looked after Master."

Regulus doesn't even consider how sad it is that a house elf is the only one who can love him. Instead, he hugs Kreacher tightly, and thinks maybe this is what it would be like to have a father. Still, he would like a girl. At Hogwarts, they were all sly things, filled with malice and darkly laughing eyes, and Regulus never trusted any of them.

His thoughts, as always, stray to Sirius, and this is when Regulus knows it is time to ask the Lord for another task.

 

**31 March 1979.**

Kreacher still hasn't returned home, and Regulus is beside himself with worry. Sirius picks a bad moment to Floo in. Regulus doesn't even notice him at first, intent on pacing up and down the length of his room, frowning lines in his forehead as he runs through all the possibilities. Sirius clears his throat, loudly, and Regulus turns on his heel and glares at him.

"Get out."

Sirius' mouth hardens and his hands clench into fists by his sides. "If you really think--"

"This isn't your house anymore! You haven't lived here for years, you left this family. We're _strangers_ ," Regulus hisses, desperate for a fight, some way to relieve his worry, but mostly just wanting Sirius to leave him alone. "Just get out. Now."

"Regulus, I'm in the Order," Sirius blurts out, and is that meant to _help_ in some way? Because it's just further evidence of Sirius' betrayal of him, of how different they are now, and Regulus is suddenly struck by what he's said -- they are strangers now. They are, they are, and Regulus doesn't take kindly to strangers in his house.

(He can't quite bring himself to hex him.)

"I don't _care_ , I don't, I don't!" Regulus screams, and a loud _crack!_ resonates through the room. They both turn, to see Kreacher lying almost helpless on the floor, clutching his throat and emitting a strangled croak. He catches sight of Sirius and even now his eyes still narrow with fury, his hand almost waving. "You're upsetting him," Regulus tells his brother, dangerously calm. "Get out. Or I'm not even responsible."

Sirius is about to argue when he sees the Death Eater robes on the bed, and something changes. "You're right," he tells Regulus. "We _are_ strangers." Regulus doesn't watch him leave, just calls for extra house elves and wonders what's happened to Kreacher.

"Master told Kreacher to come back," Kreacher manages, "so Kreacher did."

His house elf is dying, in front of him, and Regulus can't take it.

He pulls on his robes, and finds out from Kreacher what had happened. Regulus isn't stupid, he's the only one in the Lord's total confidence apart from that _snake_ (and Regulus hates the snake, always watching him). He knows what the Lord's been planning to do, and he studied so much in school that he can recognise a Horcrux when he hears about one.

He pulls up his hood, and apparates to the lake.

 

**31 October 1979.**

YOUNGEST BLACK FOUND DEAD, BELIEVED DEATH EATER.

Sirius doesn't talk to anyone for three weeks.

 

**16 June 1996.**

When Sirius falls through the Veil, the last person he sees is Remus.

When Sirius falls through the Veil, the last person he thinks of is Regulus.


End file.
